


Late To The Party

by goodgollyzollie



Category: Elite (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Future, Background Relationships, M/M, Marijuana, No Murder AU, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-07-12 04:56:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19940566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodgollyzollie/pseuds/goodgollyzollie
Summary: Ander and Omar don't really want to go to Carla's party.*NOTE* if you are reading this on any other platform besides the official AO3 website, know that I did not consent to it being there. Please report wherever you are reading this from and read it on the AO3 website, thank you.





	Late To The Party

Ander stood in front of the mirror pulling at his shirt and frowning at his reflection. He was trying to puff his chest out without looking totally ridiculous but maybe there just wasn't a good way to do that. This shirt wasn't working with him.

He sighed, smoothing down his shirt front and pulling his phone out of his back pocket. 8:34. They should start heading out soon, if they were going to get there at nine like they promised. 

"Omar," Ander called around the corner, "are you almost ready?"

There was an assenting sound from the bathroom and a second later the door banged open. Omar was wrapped in a thin towel and dripping wet, scrolling through his phone. 

"What's the rush?" Omar asked. He seemed to be taking his sweet time, digging through the messy dresser drawers that held an uneven mix of shirts and pants.

Ander shrugged. "I just told Carla we'd be there at nine." Omar snorted and pulled on a pair of boxers. 

"I doubt they're holding their breath."

Ander frowned at the back of his head. "Just get dressed."

Omar sighed, shaking out a red striped shirt. "Why do you care so much about them, anyway? It's not like you're great friends."

Rolling his eyes, Ander turned to the mirror again and fiddled with his collar. Should he change?

"Hey," Omar said, dropping the shirt back in the drawer, "what's really up?"

"Nothing."

Ander saw Omar move to stand behind him. He felt his broad hands stroke down his back, tracing the planes of his back with his thumbs. "You're a shit liar, Ander."

Ander dropped his hands from his collar and closed his eyes. "I haven't seen them all in so long. And I guess I'm a little nervous about it."

"Come on," Omar said, tugging Ander to their bed, "sit down and stop picking at your shirt."

Ander flopped down and slumped down to rest his head on Omar's shoulder. 

"I don't even think anything bad will happen," Ander mumbled, "I just don't know what to expect."

Omar made a small sound in his throat and pressed his cheek to Ander's curls. "I have a few predictions. When we get there, everyone will be on their way to getting drunk. Lu and Carla will be pawing at each other shamelessly. The music will be too loud. It's going to be boring and no one will care when we get there."

When Ander failed to react Omar tugged a strand of hair. "Relax."

"Great," Ander said sarcastically, "why didn't I think of that?"

Omar shoved him back into the bed before walking over to the dresser again. "I think I know something that could help," he said, sorting through the basket of stuff they had on top. 

Ander groaned. "We cannot show up high."

Omar laughed but didn't listen. He pulled out a zippered bag and shook it invitingly. Ander hesitated, wavering on his sober conviction, which Omar took as a victory. He threw it on the bed and plopped down next to Ander. 

"Just enough to take the edge off," he promised. Ander chuckled and conceded. Omar could be very convincing and Ander could be very weak. 

Ander leaned in to kiss Omar, who obliged him happily. "Will you pack it?" Ander asked, unzipping the bag. 

Omar took out their "grinder" (a pill bottle with a metal marble in it) and nodded, checking to see how much was in the bottle. "We have enough for one bowl, probably."

Ander grinned. "Just enough to take the edge off."

They didn't smoke all that often-- at least not as often as they had when they first moved in together. The move had been stressful for Omar especially so they had spent many nights on their bed, window open, smoking multiple bowls every few days. It had been something that bonded them to this apartment initially, but as Omar's father reopened communication with him once again, the habit changed. Now, it was more of a slightly-expensive hobby than anything. 

Omar carefully tapped the weed into their pipe and glanced at Ander. "You know, if you wanted to skip the party entirely, I bet I could find another gram somewhere. Have a night in."

Ander laughed. "Don't tempt me. I already blew off Carla's last invite."

Shrugging, Omar sighed. "Worth a shot." He lifted the pipe to his lips and flicked the lighter on. He held it over the bowl for a few seconds, puffing lightly, before inhaling. 

He blew the smoke over his shoulder and passed the pipe and lighter to Ander. "Why are we going to this anyway?" He asked. 

"Because I don't want to be rude to Carla and Lu by brushing them off again," Ander replied. Omar frowned as Ander lit the bowl again. 

"Then why do I have to come too?"

"Because I don't want to have to go alone."

Omar nodded, as if this answer made sense to him. Ander passed the pipe back. "I also kinda want to show you off."

"There it is," Omar sighed happily and ducked to kiss his shoulder. Ander hummed contentedly, leaning into his touch.

They sat in silence while finishing the bowl after that. Ander would occasionally trace Omar's back or arm. Omar would smile at him serenely. Smoke filled the air between them, but a fan in the window sucked most of it out of the room. 

When Omar declared the pipe empty with a final pull, he set it on the bedside table with a thunk. "Feeling better?" He asked Ander, letting his hand rest on the bedspread next to his hip. 

Ander nodded, then grabbed Omar's shoulder as he flopped back onto the bed. Omar laughed and fell with him. 

Distantly, Ander heard his phone buzzing on the floor where it must have fallen. He ignored it in favor of letting his hands trail over Omar's chest aimlessly. "I think I'm in love with you."

His face softened. "You've said that before. Many years ago."

Ander swallowed. "Not since we got back together, though. Does it feel different?"

Exhaling, Omar rolled onto his back and clasped his hand with Ander's. "Maybe. Do you mean it?"

"Of course I do. I meant it then too. But--" Ander stammered, feeling the words slipping from his mind before he could say anything.

"But we couldn't have done anything about it then," Omar finished for him. "I guess it does feel different now. Now that we're not sixteen and eighteen anymore."

The fan whirred in the window. Running his fingers over Ander's knuckles, Omar said "I love you too."

"And you mean it?" Ander whispered. 

"Yeah."

Silence stretched between them. "I didn't have to get the shit beat out of me," Ander noted cheerfully. Omar laughed heartily and kissed Ander's hand. 

"Lucky guy."

Smiling softly at Omar, Ander whispered "I am pretty lucky."

This devolved into a lazy makeout session. Neither really shifted much, choosing instead to roll over and lay face to face in a way that maximized comfort and minimized actual effort. Ander rested a hand on Omar's neck and slid it down his arm, skin cool to the touch under Ander's warm palm. Omar teased Ander's lip between his teeth gently. 

There was no urgency between them, no rush. There was just a feeling that time was moving slower just for them. Dripping like honey in the low, hazy light.

Next time a phone vibrated it was Omar's, which happened to be on the wooden dresser and startled both of them when the sound echoed off the surface. 

"Did you give Carla my number?" Omar asked, pulling back to look semi-accusatorally at Ander. 

Ander shrugged nonchalantly. "She wanted to make sure there was a way to contact you in case I ever got too drunk with her."

Ander reached to grab his own phone. Five texts from Carla. "Apparently we're missing a real rager," Ander reported, scanning them quickly, "and there's a few people who really want to meet us."

Slowly, Ander sat up and rubbed his neck. "I think we better get going, Omar."

Omar grumbled but pulled himself up to the side of the bed grudgingly. He pulled Ander into his arms and looped his arms around his waist. "You should wear one of my shirts. The green one," Omar suggested. 

"Do I not look good in this one?" Ander asked in a mock offended tone. 

"I saw you puffing up in front of the mirror," Omar said, adding with a sly smile "like a douche bag."

Ander snorted and pushed his head away. "So rude."

With a squeeze Omar released Ander, laughing easily and gazing at him. "Hey."

"Hey." Ander returned his gaze, dropping a hand on the back of Omar's neck. 

The light flickered. The fan whirred. Somewhere outside, in the distance, a car honked. Omar breathed slowly. 

"We should get going," he said, "if we ever actually plan to leave. Don't wanna be late to the party."

"I'm never late to the party if I'm late to the party with you," Ander tried to tease, but it came out a lot more honest than he intended. Omar's neck warmed under Ander's palm and he ducked his head down. 

One of their phones buzzed. Ander shrugged. "Though I guess we should at least try to make an effort," he concluded. 

"Maybe. If we have to."

Eventually, they did manage to pull themselves together. Ander did wear that green shirt (which somehow seemed to fit him best, according to Omar) and called them a Lyft. 

When they got there, Lu chewed them out a bit for being late but introduced them to all of her and Carla's young, rich, and very intoxicated friends happily. Carla's excitement was contained behind mysterious smiles and restrained arm squeezes, but Ander knew they appreciated their presence there. 

Ander lost sight of the pair when he was pulled into the throng of people dancing, but he let himself get swept up in the energy of it all. The ebb and flow of the crowd carried him around the room, and he soon found himself back where he had started, though it seemed Omar had peeled off at some point. He vaguely remembered him heading off into the kitchen but it didn't really matter. They had a way of finding each other. 

Ander grinned when he saw Carla and Lu in one of the corners of the room, whispering into each other's necks between kisses. Omar was right-- those two had no shame in sneaking off during even their own party. 

Just as Ander was beginning to wonder how much more of this party he would have to endure, while listening to some exceedingly boring guy talk about the current price of real estate in Prague, Omar's hand reached out and grabbed his hip. 

"Excuse us for a moment," Omar said pleasantly to the man, not waiting for a response before tugging Ander away. 

"Let's get out of here," he whispered, "I'm sick of all these elites, and as handsome as it looks on you, I wanna know how that shirt would look on our floor."

Ander only kissed him as a response, inhaling his dizzyingly sweet scent, and they snuck out before anyone else saw them.

**Author's Note:**

> \- title is from "Late to the Party" by Kacey Musgraves bc I love her and this song is adorable
> 
> -i wrote the entirety of this fic on a plane on my phone so i'm pretty sure its okay plot/grammar wise but if not oh well sorry about that
> 
> \- please don't bully me about my shitty drug terminology, I just have friends who are stoners, I myself am not (not a huge fan of schweed, if I'm being honest, but to each their own)
> 
> \- yes carlu is here bc I wanted it, thank u 
> 
> \- sharing clothes is my jam!!! Like yes do that please its adorable
> 
> edit: inspire me on my tumblr @goodgollywrites i need help in the creativity department lol. Or just send me music!


End file.
